


Sherlock's Awful Timing And The Benefits It Reaps

by unusuallyeddie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Gay, Happy Ending, Letters, M/M, Weddings, lestrade is a Good Bro, like it'll rot your teeth, my poor confused boys, my stupid boys, super fluffy you guys, very pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:02:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unusuallyeddie/pseuds/unusuallyeddie
Summary: Sherlock had planned to confess his love for John eventually, but not during John's wedding to Mary. No, not like this.





	Sherlock's Awful Timing And The Benefits It Reaps

Sherlock stared nervously at John’s suit that hung in front of him, fingering the speech in his hand. 

You see, John was getting married soon, and Sherlock was to be best man. Now, normally there’d be no problem with that, but there was a slight hitch, a minor thing really.

Sherlock was irrevocably, horribly in love with John.

And it said so in his best man speech.

Now, Sherlock was no idiot. No, even he knew it was unacceptable to proclaim ones love for a groom at a wedding, especially if you weren’t the bride. So, with the help of Lestrade, Sherlock rewrote his speech, but kept the original, out of sentimentality, or something, and created it into the form of a letter of sorts.

But he was far too ridiculous to keep the speech to himself.

So here he was, standing in front of Johns suit, four hours before the wedding, holding his love confession and looking around nervously for witnesses. When none were found, he folded up the speech and carefully stuck it into the suits left pocket, making sure it didn’t leave a mark in the lining.

He left the room.

It was done.

~   


He knew John wouldn’t find it until later. John never checked his pockets if he didn’t know something was there. Sherlock was a coward, yes, but he was no idiot.

So here Sherlock was, sitting through a reception he was wishing wasn’t haoppening, praying for his luck to change and for something drastic to happen so the wedding wouldn’t go on.

Of course, the chances of that happening were slim to none. Mary and John, as much as Sherlock loathed to say it, loved one another. It wouldn’t be fair to them, to John, to ruin that.

Besides, Mary was a perfectly nice girl. Sure, there was something off about their entire relationship that Sherlock couldn’t quite put his finger on, but John was happy. And that’s all that really mattered.

Sherlock made a disgusted face to himself. Since when had his life become to involved with another person’s?   


Then he realized it was time for Mary to walk out, nearly so at least, and John was fidgeting. Sherlock leaned over in anticipation. Was John, dare he say it, having cold feet?   
Then, slowly but surely, John reached into his pocket, a confused look on his face, and Sherlock’s blood ran cold.

~   


_ Dear John, _

_ As you know, I pride myself on not being a cliche. However, I will have to break that particular habit of mine, and do something I am truly not proud of. _

_ First of all, congratulations on your marriage. I wish you the best, even if it is with someone I’d rather it not be with. Mary is a wonderful woman, and your happiness is all I hope for. After all, you’ve brought me so much. _

_ When I first met you in Bart’s, I never thought you would make the impact on my life that you have. You have allowed me to express emotions I never thought myself capable of producing, much less expressing. You bring me joy, which is rare for another human to do. You even make talking with Scotland Yard seem tolerable. _

_ You truly lighten up my pitifully dark life, John, and as much as I loathe Hallmark sayings, I find every single one applies to you. _

_ For you’re my everything.  _

_ In case you’re too terribly dull to have put it together-although I know you aren’t-I will put it bluntly. _

_ I love you. I fell for you that first night we chased down a taxi cab. I loved you then, and I love you even more now. _

_ It’s ridiculous, and sentimental, and completely unlike me, but I’m afraid I’ve told nothing but the truth in this letter. _

_ Yours, now and forever (for I sincerely doubt I’ll be getting over you anytime soon), _

_ SH _

~   


Sherlock sat on the edge of his seat, barely able to keep from crying out for John to stop as the shorter man read his letter, much to the confusion of the other guests. Emotions of a wide variety appeared on John’s face-confusion, fondness, remembrance, and lastly something soft and vulnerable Sherlock couldn’t identify.

Eventually John put down the letter, and the whispering of the guests increased. John looked directly at Sherlock, who at this point was contemplating faking his own death once more, and opened his mouth to say something.

Sherlock prepared himself for the inevitable rejection.

The music, that horribly familiar tune of  _ Here Comes The Bride _ , started up as the doors to the church swung open to reveal Mary, radiant in her white dress. 

Sherlock’s chest ached as John’s attention went from him to Mary as she walked down the aisle, the band loud and all-encompassing, making Sherlock want to curl up and die, but more so he wanted to support John, his John.

He had to support John.

So he watched Mary, missing John’s eyes that were on him, Sherlock smiling politely at anyone who caught his eyes, desperate to seem like he wasn’t having the worst day of his life.

When Mary reached the end of the aisle, hem of her dress trailing behind her, John leaned forward to whisper in her ear. She listened, and the guest ‘awww’-ed, assuming he was whispering sweet nothings.

But then she looked at Sherlock, and he knew, knew exactly what John had whispered. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, his face crumpling briefly before he resumed his usual cold mask.

Don’t let them see.

Don’t let anyone see.

John cleared his throat as the priest began to speak, holding up a single hand to stop him. As the priest stopped talking, John smiled at the crowd. “I’m afraid I have a brief announcement to make.”   


Sherlock froze. What was John doing? Was he about to belittle Sherlock in front of everyone? All their friends?   


No, John wouldn’t, John would never.

...Would he?

John continued. “Sorry about the hassle, first of all. And Mary, I’m sorry to you.”   


Mary nodded, smiling warmly, knowingly, at John.

Whispering broke out once more. What was John doing? Was this planned? What was happening? Did it have something to do with that paper?   


“You see,” John stated. “I was just given some very...interesting news, for lack of a better word. And I would like to address it.”   


_ No. _

“Sherlock, could you come up here please?”   


The whispering got louder, and Sherlock found his legs didn’t work.

John sighed, long-suffering but fond. “Now, Sherlock.”   


And suddenly his legs worked and were carrying him to the front of the church, right where he didn’t want to be. 

“So,” John said with all his usual confidence. “I have a small confession to make. Mary and I...we aren't quite in love.”   


Gasps rang out.

“We do love each other, but more familial, you know? However, we both wanted a significant other. A child, even. And we thought maybe, maybe we could make this work. After all, I couldn’t have who I truly wanted, and Mary has enough secrets she could never share that most people won’t put up with.”   


Sherlock couldn’t believe it. John was facing him now, and his eyes were shy, but he was smiling, and Sherlock knew this couldn’t be happening, this had to be a dream or hallucination, John couldn’t really be saying these things.

“But then I received a letter. A quite well-written one, too. A letter from Sherlock.”   


Sherlock couldn’t breathe. There was a faint whispering from Mrs. Hudson of ‘I knew this was going to happen!’ Lestrade was beaming in the front row.

“He told me he loved me.” John said, more quietly now, looking Sherlock in the eyes. “He told me he was mine, forever. And I couldn’t just let that go.”   


“What are you saying, John?” Sherlock whispered, barely able to speak, not daring to hope.

John’s smile widened. “I love you too, you bloody idiot. I was settling for Mary, and she knew this. You really thought I wouldn’t love you back?”   


“Just kiss him, you imbecile!” Came a voice, Mary’s voice. There were sudden cheers of agreement, amongst the sounds of confusion and vague horror.

John stepped closer. “May I?”   


Sherlock searched John’s eyes for any trace of deception, and found none.

Slowly, he nodded.

It was slow. It was perfect. It said everything worlds could not, and more, John’s lips moving warmly against his, amongst cheers and joy from the congregation. Lestrade was loudest of them all.

And suddenly, the worst day of Sherlock's life turned into the best.

~   


“And that’s how your idiot father confessed to me. At my own wedding!” John recalled with bravado, a happy look on his face, eyes sparkling as he looked down at Rosie.

Rosie had come into the picture a few years after the almost-wedding, and one year after the actual wedding, this one between John and Sherlock. Mary, of course, offered to be surrogate, as long as she played a prominent role in the baby’s life, which the two men agreed to easily.

Rosie looked appropriately shocked. “Father is an idiot.” She agreed solemnly, having inherited her brilliant mind and slightly aloof attitude from her father. “Daddy, can you tell me how you and Father met again?”   


John grinned, swinging Rosie up into his lap. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for i-need-you-buddy on Tumblr, I loved writing this, thanks so much!


End file.
